Paris, Brazil, and Everything in Between
by Forever Written in the Stars
Summary: Austin Tucker never understood it, never understood whatever that thing was that made girls go all starry-eyed when the word Paris crossed someone's lips.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Author's Note: As a writer, I was intrigued by the possibility of a Lauren and Austin friendship and what that would be so I came up with this little piece. This may have more parts later on, but for now, this is just the foundation, how they get to know each other and get to a place that could maybe be a friendship. _Please read and review._

_EDIT (3/10/2012): I just realized that men don't do balance beam so there's no reason for Austin to be on the balance beam like he was in the original so I had to fix that. I didn't change any of the content._

* * *

><p>Austin Tucker never understood it, never understood whatever that thing was that made girls go all starry-eyed when the word Paris crossed someone's lips, when a picture of the Eiffel Tower reaching toward the sky flashed before their eyes, but as he stands at the top of the Eiffel Tower, alone, the wind lapping at his back, he <em>tries<em> to see it from her eyes, tries to find whatever it was that made her eyes sparkle, whatever it was that made her think that this city, an ocean away, almost a world away, was magic.

He doesn't find it.

He looks out and sees Paris's lights shining far below his perch, each impossibly small and minuscule, and he thinks that maybe this is what God feels like looking down at the stars from his place in the heavens. He doesn't believe in God though, because God took her away from him. He doesn't think a god that would rob the world of Audrey Anne Tucker is one worth believing in.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a man lower himself to one knee and pull out a ring so he can propose to his love in the most romantic place in the world. The woman with soft brown hair and even softer eyes smiles, and Austin knows instinctively that _this_, this magical proposal on top of the world must have been her dream since childhood. It was_hers_ too, and it makes something in him want to grab that velvet box out of that man's hand and throw it and the diamond off the top of the Eiffel Tower, hurling into the dark night sky, because this woman was getting her dream. His sister would never get hers.

He makes his way down the tower and into the Paris streets, teeming with people who saw and felt the magic in the air from the bottom of his hearts, but somehow, no matter how hard he looks, he just sees another city, packed to the brim with people and bright lights that washed out the stars.

* * *

><p>He heads to the train station and spends a couple minutes just standing there watching trains and people rush from point A to point B, entirely focused on a destination, a time and place.<p>

He needs to be back in Calais for his gymnastics meet, but somehow, even though this is_ his life_, the only thing that's mattered since she was taken from him, it doesn't seem to matter, here in Paris, the place she wanted to see more than any other in the world and knowing how much she wanted to live here, be here, see the world from the top of the Eiffel Tower makes him feel just a little bit closer to her, and he thinks that_ maybe_ this place is magic, because he hasn't felt this close to her, like he could reach out and touch her, in a while.

He spots a girl across the way performing circus tricks for passersby. She falls in and out of flips and turns as if to music, full of grace and poise and power all at the same time, and that's how he knows she's like him, a gymnast, which makes him wonder why she's here in Paris performing tricks for spare change. Then, he looks closer, at her sharp angled features and short hair, and he knows who she is.

She's that gymnast, the one no one but his sister likes, the gymnast from the wrong side of the tracks who's slowly but steadily taking the world by storm, and he knows then that she's a long way from home and more importantly, a long way from Calais. This, Paris, is the last place she should be fifteen minutes before bed check. He's _Austin Tucker_ and having already won an Olympic gold medal means something. Plus, Ellen Beals doesn't concern herself with men's gymnastics, doesn't think it's worth her time, and he's just fine with that, means the tyrant who wishes that she could've been someone in the world of gymnastics isn't breathing down his neck, waiting for him to step outside the lines. She is, however, most certainly waiting for this girl, the girl who threatens to overturn the gymnastics hierarchy, to step outside the lines so he wonders if this girl knows that and if she does what's so important that she needs to be_ here_,_ now_, the night before probably one of the biggest meets in her career.

He watches and sees a crowd form around the girl whose feet never seem to touch the ground, watches as she continually checks her tip jar, hoping for that magic number, the number that will get her from Paris to Calais, and she's probably the only person in this city who wants to leave so he walks over because he can identify with that.

_"Hey, aren't you one of the Rock Rebels?"_

_"Yeah, Emily,"_ she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and he thinks she's rather timid, much different than the girl whose picture is plastered across the cover of a magazine, decked out in a black leotard staring fiercely into a camera, because for all the words a picture says, those words are often the wrong ones.

_"Thought so,"_ he says, carefully training his face into a smirk, giving nothing away.

_"Any idea where the train to Calais boards?"_ he asks, taunting her. They both know she knows the answer. They both know she's nervously watching the clock, nervousness in her eyes as she worries that she won't get back in time.

_"Over there,"_ she says pointing her finger toward the departure area.

_"Cool thanks."_ And he walks away, leaving her to stare after him. It's a bluff. He knows it but doesn't think she does. He wants to know if she has the guts to ask for what she needs, wants to know if she's as strong and as fierce as his sister seemed to think she was.

_"Wait, please don't leave,"_ she calls after him, and he stops, finding the answer he wanted. _"I need money for a ticket. I'll pay you back. I promise."_ And it strikes him that she's a girl who realizes nothing's ever free.

_"Sorry, but my mom told me, neither a borrower nor a lender be."_ The words come out of his mouth so naturally, because they're true, no pretense, something honest. She doesn't see it, though, thinks he's just messing with her, and he is, but his mother did say that. Because where his sister was naive and trusting, his mother was realistic and cynical, never one to be indebted or dependent on another. _"But what the hell?"_ he says throwing her a Euro. He's bored so he'll play with the little gymnast by the train tracks.

She looks into the jar and he takes immense joy out of seeing the crestfallen look on his face and he wonders at the state of his life, because this, terrorizing this girl stuck between Paris and Calais shouldn't be this fun. _"One euro... No, no you don't understand. I need to get to Calais now. I'm late and in really big trouble."_

A smirk falls across his features once again,_ "I'm sorry, but a flip and a tuck is worth a euro. Now a full twist, that could get you a ticket."_

She sighs but she does the full twist, much to his amusement. He doesn't say it, but he probably would've bought her the ticket either way.

_"So what are you doing in Paris?"_ she asks as they walk toward the boarding area side by side, two strangers in a train station full of them.

_"Green Day concert,"_ he says, and it's true enough, and that's not the reason why he came, but he did end up there. It's not a lie. It's not the truth either.

He suspects she only asked to be polite, to make small talk, because she strikes him as the kind of girl who would ask not because she wants to know, but out of obligation. She strikes him as the type who doesn't always know how to do anything for herself, and it reminds him of his sister who would do anything for anyone without a thought for herself, but with his answer, her interest seems to spike, _"Really did you see the opening act?"_

_"Damon Young? Yeah, he's awesome."_ He gives a generic answer that really gives nothing away.

And he realizes that she's the girl he sang about, the one he wrote his songs about, songs that made him want to roll his eyes, they were so sickeningly sappy, but when he looks at the girl with stars and dreams in her eyes, the one that reminds him of his sister, he thinks that maybe she deserves all the lyrics in the world.

* * *

><p>After Calais and a meet that doesn't quite go the way he wants it to, he looks for a change in scenery. He finds himself pulled to Boulder, more specifically to the Rocky Mountain Gymnastics Training Center. He spouts off some story about how he's building himself a gym and needs somewhere else to train in the meantime and talks about snowboarding and skiing because it sounds appropriately arrogant, like something Austin Tucker would say, but really he just wants to see the Rock Rebels, because his sister admired them so much. He wants to know if they, unlike Paris, match up to that picture she had of them.<p>

Some days, he hates gymnastics. He really does, but then, those other days, he'll see it from his sister's wide blue eyes, the eyes that had been riveted by men and women performing spell-binding flips and turns as if the rules of gravity didn't apply to them. She was a model, too tall to be a gymnast, but somewhere, in that childlike heart of hers, he knew she was meant to be the gymnast not him. She would've fallen head-over-heels in love with the sport, because Audrey had always wanted to fly. He thinks if he hangs around here, around girls that seemed to be the very definition of gymnastics for Audrey, he can fall in love with it again.

* * *

><p>Kaylie Cruz is temperamental.<p>

Emily Kmetko is distant.

Lauren Tanner is a bitch.

And Payson Keeler is so wrapped up in her own little world she doesn't even notice him.

All in all, it's a fairly satisfying existence.

* * *

><p>She just stands there, leaning against the pommel horse, one arm resting on the apparatus, and the pose looks effortless, but it's just that: a pose, more specifically, one carefully chosen just to annoy him. He's not sure why, not sure why she's here bothering him, not sure why Lauren Tanner has decided he is worth her attention after months of pretty much ignoring him with the exception of a couple well-placed barbs. She's never gone out of her way to be in his presence, but she's always been sure to make some bitchy quip or remark if he's in her way, if he's somehow impeding her path to things she thinks she's entitled to.<p>

Some days, he watches her prance around the gym, little blonde ponytail bobbing up and down, and wonders what it is that makes her think she's so much better than everyone else, why she thinks the world ought to fall down around her feet. He assumes that it's her high opinion of herself that keeps her from fawning over him like all the other girls do. She thinks she's better than him, that he, even though he's an Olympic medalist and gymnastics' bad boy, isn't worth her time.

He tries to go about his work, pretending she's not there clearly impeding his path, but then, as she listlessly drums her fingers over the surface of the pommel horse, she throws him a smirk and he snaps. She breaks his will and does what he knows she wants him to do.

"What are you doing here?" he snaps, "You're in my way."

She looks at him, and it shakes him even though it shouldn't. He's Austin Tucker. People stare at him all the time, but something about those hazel eyes that seem to hold way more malice than a person her size should be able to contain shakes him. She's a scary girl that Lauren Tanner. "So... I saw Kaylie yesterday."

She's says it simply, like she's stating a fact, like there's no agenda behind those five little words, but the innocence of her tone and the words themselves are contradicted by the calculating gaze in her eyes that seems to be wondering how he'll react. He gives her nothing. "That's nice."

"She asked about you," she says flippantly just as he's preparing to perform a stunt. He almost loses his balance but tries to mask it by jumping off the apparatus, but he sees her smirk and knows she's seen through him. Lauren Tanner, for all her faults, knows her way around a gym and knows when people aren't at ease. She knows she hit the right button, and something tells him she's going to keep pushing that button until he breaks.

"She likes you," Lauren muses, cocking her head to the side, feigning thoughtfulness, "And she's wondering if she can get gymnastics' bad boy to settle down, but I'm here wondering something else..."

Her voice trails off, and he_ knows_ she's waiting for him to bite, that she's taking some sort of pleasure in all this. She's barely moved a muscle since she sauntered over and disrupted his routine so he's pretty sure she's prepared to wait all day for the reaction she's hoping to get, and it annoys him that he's annoyed, because he can't help but think he'll be cracking soon, giving her what she wants. He's not even entirely sure _what_ she wants, and it's putting him on edge. He'd leave, but he fears that may also be what she wants.

"What?" he asks through gritted teeth.

She looks at him speculatively, like some sort of jungle cat, one of the bitchy ones, eyeing its prey. "I'm wondering who broke Austin Tucker, because everyone knows every player's had his heart broken."

He watches her watch him, knowing that she's looking for something and neither of them are quite sure what it is, but he answers, coldly and coolly, not giving away anything, because two can play at her little games. "You know nothing. You're just an inexperienced little girl who gets her information on boys from chick flicks. If you knew more, maybe Carter wouldn't have bailed for Denver."

It's a low blow, and he knows it, but she's never been one to play inside the lines either.

* * *

><p>She finds him leaning against the door of her shiny, silver, little BMW convertible, and he watches as her nose wrinkles like she doesn't think he's good enough to touch her car, and it makes him want to laugh. He wonders when he entered a world in which girls look down their noses at Austin Tucker.<p>

"Get off my car," she says, tone clipped and impatient.

"I don't think so," he drawls, shifting to make himself more comfortable, signalling that he has no intent of moving, "What are you playing at?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't think I didn't see that little display over there with Max."

"I don't see how that's your business," she says, imitating his drawl and raising an impeccably manicured eyebrow, "Now, move!"

He ignores her. "You're a horrible friend, you know that?"

"You think everyone cares what you think because you have an Olympic medal. Newsflash: no one here cares," she snaps, "Besides, if you knew anything, you would know that Little-Miss-Perfect over there is busy claiming she doesn't like Max and insisting that there's nothing between them so the way I see it, he's up for grabs."

"But she likes him. You should know that even if she says otherwise. Any friend worth her salt would know that... oh wait, you aren't a friend."

"Like you're a saint? You may think I'm a heartless bitch, but interestingly enough, I'm capable of feeling something for another person, and I like Max too! Just because Payson's busy warring with herself over whether or not she can be a gymnast and have a boyfriend doesn't mean that I have to sit back and watch! God... I've liked him since freaking-Denver, and it's been all Payson-this-and-Payson-that and she won't even pull her head far enough out of her ass to see that he likes her! I like him too! I liked him_ first_!"

"He _loves_ her!" he shouts, annoyed that all she thinks about is herself.

She scoffs. "You think I don't know that? This thing... whatever the hell it is that Max and I are doing... it won't last. He'll choose Payson, and honestly, a guy who would choose me over Payson wouldn't be one worth chasing."

"What? Do you like enjoy stealing your friend's guys?"

"No," she whispers, her voice almost breaking, and the softness of her voice catches his attention and he just looks at her, really looks at her for the first time since he reached Boulder, and he has trouble reconciling what he sees with the brat who walks around the Rock as if the rest of the world exists to do her bidding.

Those hazel eyes that usually flicker back and forth across the room, watching, picking out weaknesses, seeking opportunity, just stop and focus on the ground at her feet, maybe because she knows that here, in the parking lot with him after perhaps letting too much show, there's nothing left to win, and her frame just seems to shrink. The way she carries herself, he and probably most people forget how small she really is, forget that she's a gymnast, five-foot-nothing, less than a hundred pounds, but in an empty parking lot, not under the harsh gym lights, she's not the queen of the gym, the girl who scares the juniors off the beam when she needs it; she's _just_ Lauren Tanner, and he thinks that maybe, that's what she's been trying to hide.

He hears her voice and it breaks him out of his reverie. "If he chose me over Payson, you would know he doesn't deserve her. A good guy would choose her, every day of the week. She should know a guy who chooses someone like me over someone like her is hardly worth having."

And her voice is so soft he has to strain to hear it, but he catches every word and he guesses he's got the answer he's been pushing her for so he leaves and heads across the parking lot, because he was wrong: Lauren Tanner isn't like _her_, isn't like the girl who broke him.

* * *

><p>After that, they stay away from each other, and he begins to wonder if that conversation out in the parking lot ever happened, because she hasn't changed a bit. She still not-so-subtly throws her relationship with Max into Payson's face and generally, makes everyone's lives a lot less pleasant, but then she'll turn a 180 and do something that makes him wonder if she is more than the Rock's ice queen. She'll fight for Kaylie, fight for Payson, fight <em>against<em> Kelly Parker. She's got _so much_ that it makes his head want to spin. It's all too much to comprehend as the world outside rushes around them all as Worlds inches closer.

And then, a week later everything crystallizes as he stands outside a door, because he hears her voice, small and soft just as it was all that time ago.

_"I don't want to have sex. I just don't want to be alone."_

She says those words to Max and he only hears them from the other side of the door, but if he were that sort of guy, his heart would probably break for her, because pretty sixteen-year-old girls shouldn't feel alone, because those words sound more like the truth and struggle of her life than a fleeting feeling in a fleeting moment, more than words uttered by a petite girl who's had more than enough to drink.

* * *

><p>He finds her after Worlds sitting in the empty stands, looking down below at the floor covered in balloons and confetti.<p>

"Where's Kaylie?" she asks as he sits down next to her, in one of the many empty seats.

He smiles. "Talking to the press."

She returns his smile, a small but guarded smile yet honest and true, and he knows she's happy for them, at least for Kaylie.

He sees something different in her, in her eyes and her face but doesn't say a word as they settle into silence.


End file.
